Vulnerabilities
by jehanna
Summary: By the time the battle at Narube River is over, Innes has only a few soldiers by his side and hundreds dead at his feet.


The Narube may as well have been a swamp. Perhaps it was due to the fact that despite the grassy terrain, the heat of the desert still scorned the area or that the aged, polluted water was flowing in from Lagdou's ruins. But the area smelled nauseatingly fetid, between the water and whatever was pulled down from the nearby volcanic land, should the wind breeze from its direction.

Even the outside of Innes' tent felt like it had a thin film of filth over it from the heavy air, and he decided he hated every part of Jehanna's environment. The smell even penetrated the gaps between the tent walls, and it only accentuated his headache.

Said headache which was making the reports in front of him impossible to finish, nonetheless read. If his eyes focused on something for too long, he'd feel a pang of pain behind them. It had to be done, soon. But…

He sighs. Where to even start.

He doesn't get to attempt before there's a gentle fist knocking the wooden poles to the tent, the closest to privacy you can hope to get.

"Prince?"

If he had a choice, Innes would prefer not to speak to anyone for the next several hours, skipping dinner if required. But fearing it would be more strenuous to send Gerik off than let him in, he doesn't stop him from entering.

The tent rises higher than the ones of other soldiers, but Gerik is a big man, and he immediately drops himself next to Innes' cot. He waits for the other to make the first remark, but neither do. At the curious rise of Gerik's eyebrow, Innes sighs.

"Do you need something?"

"Not really," Gerik replies. "Do you?"

"...How do the others fare?"

"Everyone got out alive, don't worry." While Gerik and Tethys were still technically under his contract, it was the twins who gave them orders now. They no longer reported to him daily and so he wouldn't know their condition unless he asks.

"And you?"

Gerik pats his bicep, directing to a short string of stitches. "Nothing major."

He only scrutinizes the wound for a moment before turning aside. "I'm hoping you didn't come to me for entertainment, because I'm afraid I'll disappoint."

"You? Of course not." Gerik leans back a tad. "If you didn't cut to the chase, I was going to ask how you are, Prince."

Innes wouldn't be surprised if his sour mood was obvious. He felt taut like a bowstring, ready to snap. This wasn't to say he ever had a friendly disposition, but typically he was better at keeping himself as impassive as possible.

At this point, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm unscathed, as you can see."

Gerik rumbles a mix of a hum and a grunt, shifting in his position. "You sure about that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Prince. But I think you're full of shit."

Choosing to ignore the crass language, Innes scowls. "What are you trying to say?"

"You've only talked about Nidhogg once. If I was ever gonna see it, I didn't expect to see it put in the hands of Prince Ephraim."

Ah, that.

Innes sighs, turning his gaze to his lapdesk. He taps the papers into a neat pile and puts them aside.

"Do you think him not worthy of it?" Innes asks. "Then worry not, he isn't going to use it. He has never won an archery game in his life."

Nidhogg only chose to work for those deemed worthy of it, anyhow. Otherwise, it was merely a normal, albeit fancy bow in the wrong hands.

"It's not that." Gerik says. "It's the fact that you gave it away at all, especially to Prince Ephraim."

Innes feels something sickly rise in him.

"Nidhogg will return to its home once this is all finished. And I should tell you that contrary to popular belief, I do not hate Ephraim. It's more complicated than that."

"But isn't it your bow? It's the sacred relic of your home, and I wouldn't doubt you're the best archer in the continent." The praise should have swelled in Innes' chest as it did whenever he thought of his battle prowess. It doesn't. "Why aren't you using it?"

In a way, Gerik was right. Nidhogg had only seen the light of day once before, but as Frelian tradition would go, Innes would wield it. Hayden would, but he had little skill in archery, leaving his son as its heir.

In fact, much of Innes' dedication to archery came from hope he would wield the bow in battle someday, even though that meant it'd be in a disastrous cause.

It was unfortunate that he could never allow that.

"It's not that I don't want to wield it. I simply think that...As leaders of this army, Eirika and Ephraim should choose who they think is worthy to wield it. If that is me, I'll take it."

"Why can't you choose who's worthy of it, then?"

"...I'm not so deep in my pride I can't tell when I've been outdone, Gerik."

Gerik watches him with narrowed, confused eyes. Innes doesn't break the contact.

"Certainly you remember my blunder in Carcino, yes?" Innes turns to better face him. "I had an entire army under my command, and an extremely skilled spy network that predates even my father's birth, one that existed before Carcino even came to be. And what happened?"

Gerik doesn't reply.

Innes was letting himself slip too quickly, but he felt pulled apart, wearing thin.

"I have lost an estimated one hundred soldiers to a betrayal that was clear as day. You and Tethys came out of it alive, but only because Eirika arrived just in time to save us. Had she not, I doubt you would be sitting here now. I doubt I would either."

"Prince—"

"And much more have fallen on the banks of Narube. Did you see how the bodies float in the water? It was I that sent them ahead of us, but I failed to predict Grado's movements. I foolishly let my guard down due to pride."

"Innes..."

"These are only the beginnings of my failures, and they were all for naught. Grado's forces remain in the area ahead, and the queen of Jehanna is nothing but ashes. How am I to look her son in the eye knowing I could have prevented this? Had I spotted Carcino's inevitable treachery, we could have arrived in time."

"Don't tell me you blame yourself for that."

"For Grado's decisions to attack Jehanna Hall? No. For my naivety? Yes. The information was there in front of me, but I had pieced it together incorrectly. I thought myself a strategic prodigy, but I realized what a farce that was when I delivered the message intended for her to her son instead."

"You're saying the same thing with different words."

"This all comes down to my failure at the one thing expected of me. Perhaps not all the blame is on me, but that doesn't erase the fact that if not for my shortcomings, many of these things could have been avoided."

His whole life, Innes had prepared for this. Every fiber of his being had gone into becoming the best strategist, the best leader, the best king there could be. And he'd thought himself at the top, only to lead his people to death at the real thing. All the effort and sacrifice for nothing.

This is the prince that people look up to? That they follow orders from?

"We all make mistakes, Innes."

"Mistakes that result in entire troops decimated by enemy forces?" He can't help feeling patronized, barely to hold back a biting tone. "Mistakes that could have resulted in the death of one of my most skilled commanders? And the older sister of one of my most dedicated and loyal soldiers?"

Innes had let that one slip, not that he'd even realized it.

Of course he felt guilty when a soldier died, the notice he had to write and send out to their family always left a sour taste in his mouth, an admittance failure on his part. But there was still something distant about it. He would never have to face them. He would send the report and move on, return to his duties.

Never once had he have to face the possibility of the death of a soldier he knew well, that he was close to.

But when they had passed into this territory, and he had seen Syrene surrounded by Grado's forces, there was a sliver of fear that wouldn't make it time again. Grado still persisted? He didn't predict that. And with bodies lining the land and only a handful of pegasus knights visible in the sky, he'd realized what he'd done.

Syrene was one of the older members of their military, she had been around when Innes and Tana were in their youth. She'd been there even at the beginning of his memories. It made the realization she could one day no longer be even more jarring. He had...never even considered it a possibility.

Even more so reporting a death to a family member. Vanessa was just a soldier, one he suspected with feelings he cannot return. But loyal and dedicated, what his knights should strive to be.

Perhaps the only reason she was still alive is that she was under Eirika's command and not his.

"I get it, I really do." His headache is soaring by the time he stops, hands in fists against the desk. "Remember, I've lost plenty of people in my years."

"It's not the same."

Gerik deals him a flat look.

"...Perhaps I worded that badly. As a mercenary leader—"

"—I'm doing the same things you do." Gerik finishes for him. "I give orders, I choose my soldiers. Sure, I'm not the one training them. But I'm making the decisions."

Innes sighs, resting his head in his hands and grasping his spread fringe. It was illogical, but such was disgusting emotions. Of course, the other is completely right...But surely, Gerik would never experience a loss on such a grand scale. The feeling of failing everything he was meant to be. Tethys and Marisa were there, weren't they?

All Innes has is a single band of pegasus knights and hundreds of bodies to bury.

"So...what then?" He sounds tired, now. It was harder to think past the dull ache under his temples, and this was a fight no one was winning, if it could even count as one to begin with. "What solution do you propose to this?"

"I don't know, Prince, you tell me." Gerik replies. "I've yet to find the answer either."

"..."

"The only choice we've got is to accept it and move on, and learn from our mistakes."

"...I suppose it is."

There's a long, heavy pause of silence with nothing but the sound of a bustling camp. The clattering of dishes is a telltale sign that dinner is to be served.

"You eatin', Prince?"

"I'll pass."

The mercenary shrugs, standing up to leave.

"Listen. I might not what the solution to this," Gerik says as he's ducking out of the tent. "But don't think you're the only one with that problem, and don't think you have to shoulder it alone."

Innes doesn't turn around to watch him go. Instead, he takes a moment to block out the stench of ancient water and defeat, before pulling the reports back out and getting to work.


End file.
